The Life and Death Of Fred Weasley
by TheCrownprincessBride
Summary: Just a collection - fragments - of Fred's life and what happened after. Possibly AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This applies to all following chapters.**

 **A/N: Welcome to my little (probably 3 chaptered) story about Fred. This one starts with the end.**

* * *

 _The Funeral_

* * *

George's gaze swept over the crowd, but he couldn't focus on anyone because tears blurred his vision. It was just a mass of black, blurry figures, like an ink stain on the green grass. Furiously, he wiped his tears away, clearing his throat. Now he could see them, the people dressed in black robes, their expectant gazes, and he felt like they were choking him.

Why the hell did he agree to give a speech? He should have known that he wouldn't be able to, that the words would get stuck in his throat, that the mere thought of Fred would break him, and that he would fall to pieces right there and then.

George cleared his throat again, loudly. It echoed over the graveyard, and he saw Ginny flinch.

"My brother Fred," he began hoarsely, his eyes flickering to the speech he had written the night before. It had been a speech for Fred, he now realised, not about Fred. It had been his goodbye. But now, it just didn't fit. Funerals weren't for the dead, they are for the living.

"He would've wanted me to crack a joke, to let something explode, to slip a love potion in the punch or canary cream into the cake," George attempted to continue without knowing what he actually wanted to say. With a slight feeling of satisfaction, he noticed some of the guests glancing nervously at the contents of their glasses, suspicion creeping into their features.

"That's how Fred was, what he would've done if I were –" George quickly interrupted himself. "But I can't… I'm sorry, brother, I just can't."

Tears were streaming down his face again, but he didn't bother wiping them away. "People always thought of us as one. As FredandGeorge. One word. But …" he swallowed thickly, "calling him my other half means that neither of us is whole."

And he wasn't. It was true. He had lost a part of himself, and that part would stay lost forever. Some people are grieved for eternity. And George knew that never a day in his life would go by where he wouldn't miss Fred. It was that thought that ripped him apart.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, now addressing his family. He couldn't do this. He couldn't bear this grief, and pain, and heartache any longer. His sadness alone was enough to handle, but the weight of everyone else's grief took his breath away.

He had to get _out_!

With one last look at the crowd, at his family huddled together, trying to keep the others from falling apart, George turned on the spot and disapparated, disappeared.

Just like Fred.

* * *

 _ *****_ _Written for the Houses Competition, Year 2 - Round 4*_

 **House: Ravenclaw**

 **Category: Drabble**

 **Prompt: "** Calling him/her/them my other half means that neither of us is whole."

 **W/C: 443**

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you to** sunsetandstars **and** nottheonlyfangirl **for betaing.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here comes the second installment of this little series. I hope you'll enjoy it. And I want to thank everyone who reviewed, favourited, or followed. Also big thanks to my betas** sunsetandstars, 2DaughtersOfAthena, and ElectricClover.

* * *

 _The Battle of Hogwarts_

* * *

The tension in the Great Hall was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Voldemort's ultimatum hung over them like Damocles' sword, and McGonagall's words still echoed eerily through the silent room, as if it had been empty.

Fred and George exchanged meaningful glances and, without thinking twice, agreed to defend the entrance of the various secret passageways. They knew the castle best – other than maybe Harry and some of the teachers – so they should be the ones to do it.

Already making plans in their head, they exited the Great Hall and slowly walked towards the Grand Staircase. The sound of footsteps, though, alerted them to someone else's presence. Following them, with wands at ready and grim expressions, were Percy, Lee, Katie, Leanne, Angelina, and a few younger students they didn't recognise.

Before they could say a word, Katie spoke, "We're here to fight. So let us help."

Fred cast a quick glance at his twin, then nodded. "Let's split up. We need to seal all secret entrances as well as we can, and then guard the ones that are most likely to be attacked."

Everyone nodded silently, nobody contradicting him. That was a strange feeling for Fred. He was used to having his words challenged. But this was a war, and nobody knew it better than the people in front of him. So they followed him, accepted him momentarily as the leader of their small group.

It made Fred feel a little uncomfortable. Normally, he shared the spotlight with his brother. But right now, George was silent, his eyes were fixed on Katie, who looked right back at him, the same desperation on her features. Fred's gaze flickered to Angelina. There were things he'd wanted to say to her. But now was not the time. Later. After the battle, in a quiet moment, when everything was over and the world was as it should be again.

"Good," Fred then said and started pairing off the students and sending them to different passageways. Finally, only Fred, George, and Percy were left.

"And me?" Percy asked, straightening his glasses.

"We can handle this alone," George replied stiffly. "Maybe you can see if someone else needs your help."

Percy's jaw set in a familiar fashion. With his hair dishevelled and his eyes flashing, he looked like a true Weasley again. " _You_ need my help," Percy retorted and marched past them towards the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, the last passageway left unguarded.

"Percy _did_ pass his defence NEWTs with an Outstanding, you know?" Fred muttered and nudged his twin forward. "He might actually be able to help."

George didn't reply, just tore away from Fred a little more vehemently than necessary and followed his older brother down the hallway. After a few steps, Fred caught up with him.

"Hey," he said softly, reaching for George's shoulder. "You okay?"

George shrugged. "It's just the end of the world, right? Who cares that he's been a pompous prat for –" He interrupted himself.

"You haven't forgiven him?" Fred enquired, scrutinising his brother.

"Have you?"

Fred hesitated for a second. "Yes," he replied simply. "Come on. Time's nearly up."

With that, they ran down the last stretch of the dimly lit hallway; their steps were unnaturally loud on the stone floor, echoing from the walls and ceiling as if a whole group of people was running beside them. The castle had never been this quiet before. It was the calm before the storm. When they finally reached the secret passageway, Percy had already finished sealing the entrance with a few curses.

"This is the last one to Hogsmeade, right?" he asked them as if nothing had happened.

"Yeah …" George began but interrupted himself. His head snapped around and he looked towards the staircase, as if listening intently.

"What is it, George?" Fred asked, alarmed.

"The fourth floor," he choked out, panic seeping into his voice. "The one behind the mirror."

"It's caved in, remember?" Fred replied, shrugging.

"It _was_ caved in," his brother contradicted. "It is a large, wide tunnel, big enough for a group of people to come through, and left unguarded because we think it's inaccessible."

Fred swallowed loudly, realising that his brother was right. It was quite possible that the Death Eaters would be able to break into the castle through there. Someone had to go up and protect the entrance. "Fine. I'll go," he offered without thinking twice.

Before George could stop him, Percy said in a tone that brooked no dissent, "I'll come with." With a glance to George, he added, "This is a small entrance. You should be able to hold them off alone."

And because time was of the essence, they didn't waste any of it with discussions, just exchanged nods. Then, Fred and Percy disappeared into the murky shadows, leaving George alone with the statue.

* * *

"You want to do what?" Percy gasped, holding his aching side. He should really take up jogging. "A trap?" Fred had explained his plan to him while they ran down the stairs to the fourth floor.

The other Weasley nodded. "I've still got some of the fireworks. They won't know what hit them, trust me."

"Trust you?" Percy echoed unbelievingly. "I think you meant to say: hey, I know how I want to get us all killed today. Shooting fireworks at Death Eaters!"

Fred pressed his lips together. "Nobody's gonna die." Then he began to expertly place the fireworks in strategic positions, ignoring his brother's protest. "Why did you even come with me if you think it's a suicide mission?" he asked harshly, securing some firecrackers on either side of the mirror.

"I …" Percy swallowed. "I'm your older brother. It's my job, isn't it? I wasn't there when … when you would've needed me before, so … here I am." He smiled weakly.

Fred tensed up, slowly turning towards his brother, his expression a mix of surprise and something else entirely. Percy wasn't sure what it was - sadness maybe - but he understood. He hated that it had taken a war for him to see what an idiot he had been, to come back and apologise, to try to reconcile, but he wasn't sure his brothers had really forgiven him. The look on Fred's face, though, said something different. Fred wasn't angry anymore that he had been absent for so long – the only thing that counted for him was that Percy was here right now.

"Put the Dragon Fire there," Percy said quickly before unwanted emotions could overwhelm him, and gestured to the top of the mirror.

A mischievous gleam appeared in Fred's eyes. "Sneaky." With a swish of his wand, the firework was in place. "I didn't know you had it in you, Perce."

Percy chuckled and Fred joined in after a second. And in that fragment of a moment, when danger seemed temporarily at bay, the secret entrance was blasted open.

The Death Eaters were here.

* * *

 _ ***** Written for the Houses Competition, Year 2 - Round 4*_

 **House: Ravenclaw**

 **Category: Short**

 **Prompt:** "I think you meant to say: hey, I know how I want to get us all killed today?"

 **W/C: 1, 166**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: The last chapter ... _badadadam *_** _drum roll_ ** _*_! **

**B** **ig thanks to my betas** 2DaughtersOfAthena and hollyhobbit101.

* * *

 _The Last Birthday Party_

* * *

"It's too dangerous!" George said in a hushed voice, trying not to wake their aunt Muriel, who was sleeping in the neighbouring room. "We can't do it!"

Fred pulled a face and drew his feet closer to his body. The mattress squeaked when he shifted his weight. Silvery light slanted through the half-drawn curtains, painting light spots on the blue bed sheets and the worn-out carpet.

The twins had been forced to close the shop in Diagon Alley and go into hiding a few days ago. And so, the room looked as if they had cleaned out the shop with a swish of their wand, teleporting everything into the tiny space. The floor was littered with boxes; Extendable Ears, hermetically sealed Dungbombs, and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. A stack of Fanged Frisbees leaned against the door, and Trick Wands were scattered everywhere. A set of Self-Writing Quills lay on George's bedside table, and the whole range of Wonder Witch products was displayed on a chest of drawers. Even some Wildfire Whiz-bangs peeped out from under the bed, where they had been carelessly 'hidden' from Aunt Muriel and their mother.

"But … Mum will be sad," Fred contradicted in a low voice.

George flinched. "I know. But …" He swallowed loudly. " _We_ _are being_ _watched_."

"But it's our birthday," Fred whispered, wrapping his arms around his knees and leaning against the head of the bed he was sitting on.. "We didn't celebrate Bill's birthday, or Charlie's, or …"

George's sigh interrupted him. They had this conversation before, many times, even before they had been forced to hide at their aunt's house. George understood his brother. He, too, wanted something happy to look forward to, wanted to see his parents smile and Ginny laugh. But celebrating their birthday and inviting people to their safe house was too dangerous.

"Fred," he began in a reasoning voice, searching his twin's gaze. "It's really dang –"

"Don't say dangerous!" Fred interrupted him harshly, his voice cutting through the silence like a whip. "Everything we do is dangerous! We broadcast an illegal underground radio! We continue selling our products! We're part of the bloody Order of the Phoenix!"

"I know," George hissed, then bit his lip. "I know," he repeated in a low voice, glancing nervously at the door. Thankfully the house stayed silent. Aunt Muriel apparently hadn't heard Fred's outburst. "And I'd take the risk any day, you know that."

"But …"

"It's not about us, Fred. I don't care if we get hurt, doing something dangerous, something reckless, like making a stupid firework explode." Fred opened his mouth to contradict, but George held up his hand, silencing him. "What if we betray our location to Death Eaters and Ginny gets hurt? Or Mum. Or Dad. Or anybody, really. What if Angelina gets caught while apparating to the edge of the protections spells? What if our owls are intercepted? What if anybody of the guests accidentally lets our location slip? What if –"

"I get it, George," Fred groaned and curled into a tight ball. "I don't want them to get hurt either," he added, his voice muffled. "I just want … more. This war seems like it will never end. And I can't take the world drowning in darkness anymore, I can't take Mum flinching with every owl that arrives, half expecting it to be a message that Ron's dead, or Harry, or Bill, or Percy … We need to remember that we can get through all of this alive. We need some laughter, even some recklessness." He cast a sideways glance at George, who sat motionlessly on his bed, staring at his hands. "We need to _celebrate_!"

George's jaw was set and he didn't reply, but Fred wouldn't give up so easily. A little jerkily, he climbed out of the bed and started to rummage through their shared closet.

"What are you doing?" George asked after a few seconds, although he hadn't wanted to admit his curiosity. Curiosity always won out with him.

"Ha. Gotcha. I knew I had that somewhere …" Fred suddenly announced, pulling out something small from under the Skiving Snackboxes. "Look." He thrust the paper into George's hands.

It was a photograph. A photograph from a time long ago, it seemed. In the centre of the picture were two red-headed boys, about five years old, who looked exactly alike. They had chocolate all over their faces and grinned like Cheshire cats, waving at the observer. They looked so happy, so innocent, and so young.

"That was our birthday," George said slowly, remembering the occasion. "Mum made this giant chocolate cake, and Bill was home from Hogwarts. That was the day …"

"The day we decided that it's our fate to be pranksters," Fred finished his sentence. "Yeah."

They silently stared at the picture, and George felt something inside him melt. Maybe Fred was right. Maybe a party _was_ in order.

"Alright," he finally agreed, nudging his twin gently, who was sitting on the edge of George's bed. "Alright, let's do this."

A wide grin spread across Fred's face. "Yes! I knew you'd come around, brother of mine." He was almost vibrating with euphoria, making George chuckle. Then, abruptly, he leapt to his feet, grabbing one of the Self-Writing Quills and summoning a stack of parchment. "Let's get started, we don't have much time. I'll do the invitations. You'll –"

"… take care of the food," George finished his sentence.

They exchanged conspiratorial grins and set to work. They only had one day left to prepare their party.

* * *

The next evening – the eve of their birthday – Fred and George excused themselves early, locking themselves in their room to get some last minute preparations done. Lee had agreed to come over the following morning for a birthday brunch, along with Katie and Angelina. Bill had written them a short note, saying he might drop by for an hour or so, and Remus and Tonks had accepted their invitation as well. Only Charlie, Ron, and Percy wouldn't be there. Of course, Charlie was stuck in Romania, doing Order business, so he couldn't come by on a whim. Ron's location was unknown, but something Bill had said had them suspecting that he, Harry, and Hermione might be at Shell Cottage. But, for now, it was more an unconfirmed rumour than anything else. And Percy… well, Percy was probably at the ministry, trying to work his way up and ignoring that Voldemort held the power now.

George pulled a face at that thought. He couldn't believe that Percy still worked at the Ministry; maybe he was in hiding as well. They hadn't been able to make contact with him.

"I think it's time to make use of our new product!" Fred suddenly said, interrupting George's contemplation. He held a small glass phial with a bright yellow liquid inside. "Euphoria Elixir."

They had managed to concoct a powerful potion that induced euphoria – inexplicable, irrational happiness – albeit without the unwanted side effects of other potions of that sort.

George nodded grimly. "A drop in the cake and everyone'll enjoy the day. It'll be fun," he said blankly.

Fred gave him strange look. "What's wrong?"

He tried to smile. "Nothing." But under the stern gaze of his twin, his smile faded. "It feels like cheating," he admitted in a low voice. "Not like a prank."

Fred's expression softened. "Don't worry, George. It'll be fine."

The other Weasley nodded faintly. "Yeah. Let's go down and start with the decorations."

Together, they silently crept down the stairs and into the old-fashioned living room.

"This room definitely needs remodelling," Fred muttered, pointing his wand at a worn out, stuffed armchair, which instantly turned into a comfortable, bright purple couch.

"What are you doing?" George hissed. "Aunt Muriel will have a heart attack."

Fred snorted and aimed his wand at the wilted flowers, which instantly began to bloom again.

"Fine," George mumbled. "I'll start with the cake."

He had just begun to measure the flour, sugar, and butter when someone entered the kitchen behind him.

"Already done?" he asked without turning, expecting it to be his twin.

"With what?" a female voice asked, and he spun around. Leaning against the doorframe stood Ginny, a red dressing gown over her pyjamas, which clashed terribly with her hair. She looked pale and tired with purple smudges under her eyes.

"Oh," George said eloquently and shifted to hide his attempts of making a cake. "Why are you awake?"

"I could ask you the same question," Ginny muttered, removing herself from the doorframe and walking over to the fridge to pour herself a cup of milk. "I couldn't sleep," she said finally, after taking a sip.

"Why?" George asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Harry."

He narrowed his eyes. "What about him?"

"Luna … she messaged me through our D.A. coin. She's safe." Ginny paused. "And she said Harry's safe as well."

"But that's good, isn't it?" George asked, turning back to the scales to measure the amount of sugar he needed.

"Yeah," Ginny replied monosyllabically. "Are you _baking_?"

"Yep," he muttered. "So, why can't you sleep then?"

She groaned. "Just forget it!"

George mixed the butter with the sugar and touched the whisk with his wand. Instantly, the crunchy sound of stirred sugar filled the room. "He's at Shell Cottage," he then said and turned towards his sister. "At least, I think so."

Ginny's eyes widened. "At Bill's! But … how? Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. But you don't need to worry about him, or Ron, or Hermione. They'll be fine."

Ginny clenched her teeth. "You don't know that. Anyway, why are you baking?"

"You know why," George replied, turning back to the bowl to add some eggs. "We need some light in these dark times."

"I agree," Ginny said solemnly. "Sometimes we forget that, whatever terrible things may happen, we still have each other." She stepped beside her brother, nudging him slightly. "Come on, let me do that."

George's brow furrowed. "You want to bake?"

She rolled her eyes. "I know perfectly well how to bake. And I want to help. I won't be able to sleep anyway."

He scrutinised her for a second, then gave in. "Fine. I'll help Fred in the living room."

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and the smell of fresh coffee filled the house. Fred, George, and Ginny stared tiredly, but proudly, at the decorated living room. In the middle of the room stood a large table, piled with delicacies: fruit salad, yogurt, fresh rolls, cheese, ham, bacon and eggs, antipasti, roasted vegetables, and – most importantly – a large chocolate cake, adorned with candles. White and yellow narcissi decorated the middle of the table, and other spring flowers stood upon shelves and window-sills. The old, ugly armchairs and stiff stools were gone, replaced by colourful couches and comfortable chairs. Everything looked brighter, more lively, and the sunlight that streamed through the windows intensified that impression. Balloons were tied to every chair and glittery garlands hung from the ceiling.

"You've outdone yourselves, children," a voice behind them suddenly said, and Arthur entered the room. "This looks delicious."

Wide smiles spread on Fred and George's faces, and Ginny giggled. Molly who had entered just after her husband still stared at the dining table.

"But how did you…?" she stuttered and then turned to her sons. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Mum," Fred grinned and let himself be enveloped into a bone-crushing hug. Only a few seconds later, George was pulled into a hug as well.

* * *

Later, when the guests had arrived, the extended Weasley family sat around the table, looking expectantly at the food.

"And because it's our birthday, we insist that everyone starts with the cake," Fred announced loudly, directing a piece of chocolate cake on every plate.

George, however, froze; his fingers wandered to the glass phial in his pocket, which was still full and uncorked. But before he could say anything to his twin, coffee and tea mugs were raised for a toast.

"Happy birthday!" was roared in chorus and Fred stood up, bowing. Quickly, George followed his example.

"Great cake," Lee said, winking at the twins.

"Ginny made it!" George said quickly.

"Oh, well done, my dear!" Molly praised, beaming at her daughter.

"It is too sweet," Aunt Muriel said sourly, "But that could be expected… well, you are certainly nothing like your Mother."

"Thanks, auntie," Ginny grinned.

And within minutes, everyone was absorbed in lively conversations, laughter echoing through the room. Angelina and Katie talked about Quidditch with Ginny, Arthur and Remus discussed baby names, Tonks vehemently refused to be pulled into the same conversation and instead asked Fred and George about the joke shop. Molly sipped at her tea, content, and watched her family. They talked as if there wasn't a war outside, as if this was just any other day in the life, a _normal_ day.

When Ginny began to laugh heartily over a face that Tonks made, and when Katie and Angelina fell in, it seemed everyone present had forgotten the shadow that had been looming over their lives for the past year.

Fred leaned over to George, whispering, "See, our potion is a complete success."

George smiled crookedly at his twin. "Only that it isn't. I forgot to put it into the dough because Ginny distracted me."

The other Weasley glanced at his laughing family members. "You mean …"

"Yeah," George said. "They are just themselves, no drugs."

"Then our plan worked even better than expected."

They grinned at each other and then joined Katie's and Angelina's discussion about Quidditch teams. They knew that their family was stronger than a Dark Lord.

 _All would be well._

* * *

 _ ***** Written for the Houses Competition, Year 2 - Round 4*_

 **House: Ravenclaw**

 **Category: Themed**

 **Prompt: "** Well, you are certainly nothing like your Mother/Father."

 **W/C: 2, 285**


End file.
